Runaway (13 page)

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Authors: Marie-Louise Jensen

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Love & Romance

BOOK: Runaway
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He strode off towards the house, leaving me in the unfamiliar position of directing stable staff I didn’t know on how to handle the horses in my charge. I suddenly missed Bridges, but managed to keep Pitch reasonably calm whilst the strange men unhitched him from the carriage. ‘You need to keep your distance from this one,’ I warned them all. ‘He’s still wild and not used to strangers.’

I led him off to a stall where I could tether him safely before unharnessing him. On the way, one clumsy young groom barged carelessly past Pitch. Tearing the leading rein momentarily out of my hand, Pitch nipped the groom swiftly on the shoulder.

‘No, Pitch!’ I said fiercely, regaining my hold on him. I turned to the groom. ‘Are you much hurt?’ I asked, concerned.

‘Damned animal’s a menace!’ complained the groom, his hand clutching his injury.

‘I’m sorry. He’s bitten me too,’ I said as I led him away. ‘Several times.’

I ensured both horses had hay and water before rubbing them down thoroughly. Only when I was completely satisfied that they were comfortable and looking as magnificent and cared-for as ever, did I leave them, in pursuit of my own refreshment. As I walked across the yard, I could see the chaise had been turned about and was ready for the horses to be harnessed again.

There was just time to drink some ale before the chaise was called. ‘Carriage for Lord Rutherford!’ a footman announced, emerging briefly in the room where I was sitting and then retreating hurriedly again.

‘Hurry!’ shouted the groom in charge. ‘Lawrence won’t trust us to bring the horses round; he’ll be here in person any minute!’ I got to my feet and rushed back out to the horses and began lifting on their collars and buckling on the harness again. A groom harnessed Velvet to the carriage while I struggled with Pitch, who had decided he didn’t want to go back into harness so soon and wilfully made my task much harder by throwing up his head, kicking out at me, and trying to bite me.

Two indoor servants emerged into the stable yard, struggling with a huge trunk between them. Lawrence appeared and watched as the trunk was strapped to the back of the chaise and I put the final touches to the harness. I’d learned the task well now and could perform it swiftly. Those difficult weeks at the posting house were standing me in good stead.

We collected a scowling Lord Rutherford from the front of the house. I watched as a golden-haired beauty in a pale blue brocade gown with white lace petticoats came floating down the steps on the arm of a besotted youth. She kissed him on the cheek and bid him a careless farewell. ‘Let me assist you into the carriage, Miss Lawrence,’ the youth begged, taking her hand as she climbed up beside Lord Rutherford.

I realized at once who she must be. Ben had told me about Miss Judith Lawrence, Lord Rutherford’s granddaughter, and so I looked at her curiously. She was a handsome girl; fair, with melting blue eyes and a vivid, determined face. Her figure was slender and graceful. A sneaking envy of her beautiful gown and her long, glowing hair caught me by surprise. I’d been so grateful for my present improved circumstances; I ought not to long for more. But it was hard not to compare my shaven head with her feminine good looks.

As I stood on my narrow perch behind her on the chaise all the way home up the steep, narrow roads that led to the downs, I watched the girl charm her grandfather out of his ill-humour. It had been obvious at the start of the journey that he was disappointed in her. She had misbehaved herself on this visit, I gathered. I’d overheard a few muttered comments about Miss Judith sneaking out of the house to meet a secret lover. But she was so sweet and affectionate towards her reproachful grandfather that he failed to remain angry for long. By the time we had passed through the Bath, his lordship had softened considerably and was smiling reluctantly at her playful talk. By the time we were up on the downs he was laughing.

‘Oh, grandpapa!’ she sighed as we drew near the turning to Deerhurst Park. ‘Much as I long to see my dear home once more, I fear it will all seem a little … dull after the diversions and liveliness of the city! Am I very naughty and spoiled to say so?’

‘Well, my dear. I’m sorry to hear it, certainly. But I have a little something for you, Judith, that I fancy will cheer you greatly.’

‘Oh!’ Miss Judith clapped her hands and bounced up and down on the seat, causing Pitch to startle and lay his ears flat. Lawrence regained control and then glanced across at her for the first time. Until now he had driven in silence, his eyes and attention on his horses and on the road. ‘I must ask you, Judith, to bear in mind that this is a novice team.’

Miss Judith rolled her eyes at his profile and then simpered to her grandfather, tucking her arm in his. ‘Grandpapa, I’ll be good. Only tell me what you have for me?’

‘Ah, my dearest, you’ll have to wait! But I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.’

The sugar-sweet play between the two, so indulgent on his part, so false on hers, disgusted me. I shouldn’t judge her on so short an acquaintance, I knew. But I had another reason to resent her. Belle, the beautiful bay horse I adored, was to be hers. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion I was prone to, but in this instance it had me in its toils.

 

 

 

Miss Judith squealed with excitement when Belle was led out to be shown to her, making the usually beautifully-mannered mare startle. Then the girl ran and flung her arms around the horse’s neck, making Belle back up nervously.

I was leading Pitch into his loose box while this was going on but, with so much excitement nearby, I had to stop and talk him into behaving himself. Once he was bestowed, I rushed to scramble out of my costly livery and back into my ordinary breeches and shirt.

When I returned to rub Pitch down, I found Lawrence in the stable checking the stallion over. As I appeared, he straightened up, stroked the horse’s neck, and ran a hand over his shoulder.

‘Come on in, Charlie. You’re doing a good job with him,’ Lawrence said to me. ‘He’s calmer and more trusting by far. Are you spending a lot of time with him?’

‘Whenever I can … ’

I broke off and bent down to brush some mud off Pitch’s back leg, hiding my confusion.

‘I’m not stupid, Charlie,’ said Lawrence good-naturedly. ‘I realize what’s going on. But you are winning Bridges over, you know. He no longer speaks of you with such disgust and once even praised you to me!’

I grinned and continued to work while my master made friends with the stallion. ‘Pitch must have been badly broken and treated to have become so difficult,’ I observed into the quiet. ‘He’s only a youngster.’

‘That was my assessment,’ agreed Lawrence. ‘That’s why I went ahead and bought him. I hoped he wasn’t incurably vicious, but it was a gamble.’

‘You love your horses,’ I observed, seeing him petting the stallion.

He smiled. ‘As do you,’ he replied. ‘There is an ancient bond between man and horse, forged through the centuries. I feel it and you do too. They are magnificent creatures, are they not?’

I paused to clap Pitch’s flank affectionately. ‘Certainly,’ I agreed. ‘Horses have always been my life.’

He nodded. ‘Mine too.’ He drew in his breath as though he were about to say something, but then let it go again and shook his head.

After a moment’s silence, I ventured to prompt him: ‘There was something you wanted to say? You had an instruction for me perhaps?’

‘No, no, it’s nothing.’

I brushed past him in the narrow space, very alive to his presence in the loose box, but trying to be distant and professional; to keep to my role. I moved around Pitch and began working on his other side. ‘I hope if you are dissatisfied with me in any way, you won’t hesitate to tell me, so I may improve,’ I said diffidently as I worked.

‘It’s not that,’ Lawrence reassured me. ‘But I do have a … request. A slightly unusual one.’

I felt heat flood my face and neck and was glad it was gloomy in the stable. What could he mean? I reminded myself I was in disguise. And I was a mere servant; a lowly one at that. Whatever he wanted from me, it wasn’t anything remotely personal. In his eyes, I was a grubby, badly-behaved boy who just happened to have a way with horses. These sobering thoughts helped me overcome my shyness and regain enough presence of mind to say: ‘Try me, sir.’

I peeped at him over Pitch’s back as I spoke. He was looking at the horse, rubbing his neck absently, a worried frown on his handsome face. I caught my breath and hurriedly resumed grooming.

Lawrence went to the half-door and looked out. Miss Judith was still feeding her new horse sugar lumps. ‘You pwetty little thing!’ she was cooing in a high-pitched baby voice. ‘Bootiful Belle-belle!’

Hearing her, I felt a fierce stab of jealousy and resentment. Belle belonged to Miss Judith, not me, I told myself sternly. She was Miss Judith’s horse and I was merely a servant.

Lawrence turned back and stepped closer to me. ‘It’s this,’ he said quietly in my ear so that I could feel his breath on my face. ‘Lord Rutherford cares for horses too. He keeps a good stable here; nothing but fine pedigree horseflesh. But he considers them possessions to be proud of, not creatures with feeling. And he has a blind spot.’

His granddaughter
, I thought, just before Lawrence said it. I moved away a little and turned to face him, putting down my brush. ‘In what way can I help?’ I asked him puzzled.

‘Just keep an eye on Belle, will you?’ he asked softly, cautious of Miss Judith nearby. ‘I won’t say any more at this stage. Just watch out for her. Consider it as much a part of your duties as Pitch and Velvet.
They
are doing well now.’

I nodded earnestly. ‘Of course. I will do so to the very best of my ability.’

‘Thank you,’ he replied, clasping my shoulder briefly. And then he was gone. By the time I’d recovered from the most inappropriate heart-fluttering caused by his brief touch, it was too late to ask him what exactly I needed to look out for.

I left Pitch and took my brushes along to Velvet’s box to rub him down too. Ben had already started, but when he saw me he stood aside to let me take over.

‘I got the harness to clean,’ he explained. ‘So you can finish up.’

I set to grooming once more, pondering Mr Lawrence. I remembered how his presence close to me in the stable had made my hands tremble and my face flush. ‘Don’t you dare fall for him,’ I whispered fiercely to myself. ‘You’ll only make yourself unhappy. You’re a boy now. Behave like one!’

I wasn’t sure my heart was listening.

 

Miss Judith spent the rest of the afternoon running in and out of the stable yard feeding ‘bootiful Belle-belle’ treats, making a huge fuss of her and generally getting under our feet. I could see such treatment might rapidly spoil a horse, but there was nothing definite I could put a stop to.

Lawrence came and went, taking out Sorrel in the gig on some estate business. He told me he didn’t need me to accompany him and took Bridges instead.

After dinner, I played cards with the other stable boys, until Steele complained about the noise we were making and packed us all off to sleep. Mindful of Lawrence’s instructions, I went to Belle’s box to sleep and found her restless and unfriendly. When I tried to stroke her, she threw her glossy head up impatiently and jerked away from me. I attributed it to Judith’s excitement around her. I curled up in the corner, wrapped a blanket around myself and was soon heavily asleep.

I woke suddenly in the middle of the night in pitch darkness, my heart pounding. Something was wrong. I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes. Why was I awake? I heard a groan and the sound of hooves scrabbling right next to me. Belle was unwell.

I was up in a moment, reaching out to her in the darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I saw she had half fallen against the wall of her box and was stretched out uncomfortably, one back leg trying to kick at her belly. I saw at once that she was suffering a bout of colic.

I felt a chill of horror pass through me. Colic is the main killer of horses. There is little that can be done to help a sick animal. I put my hand on her flank to see how bad she was. She struggled to her feet at my touch, legs flailing, and one hoof caught me on the shin. I cried out and staggered against the wall. As the pain blossomed, I cursed myself for not being more circumspect. The poor horse was in too much pain to know what she was doing.

Belle gave me a desperate whinny as she lay back down, her legs moving almost in spasm. I went to her head. She was sweating, her neck damp. Her eyes were dull and unfocused, her breathing ragged. I ran my hands over her neck. She didn’t seem to have a fever which was a relief, but her pulse was fast. Experimentally, I reached across and ran my hand over her belly. It was taut and distended and her reaction was immediate, flinching and scrabbling to get away from my touch.

My own heart was beating quickly and my mouth was dry with fear. Such a beautiful horse; such a loving, trusting creature. Now her life might be thrown away. There was little doubt in my mind it was all those ‘treats’ Judith had brought her. She’d been thoughtless and selfish, thinking more of her own pleasure in feeding the horse than of what a surfeit of rich food might do to the gracious mare.

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